Terror Tuesday: I'm PK, You're PK

Time for Terror Tuesday again, little ghouls and golems. Time to sacrifice another bookstore manager at the alter of misfit novels should they refuse to carry more horror books. Hmmm? Oh, someone tells me that’s slightly illegal. Well, damn. Of course, isn’t everything fun illegal? Or was that immoral? I get the two mixed up. Anyway, it’s getting near the Witching Season, so please support your independent horror authors and book publishers. I suggest you start with The Chloe Files, of course, or The Nightmare Club series for your children’s Halloween goodie baskets. I need the royalties to buy a Snuggie.

Saw the trailer for The Wolfman. Since the original Wolfman is one of my all-time favorite horror movies, I am very reticent about any kind of remake, but the trailer looked pretty interesting. I much prefer Wolfman type werewolves over the Howling type, so I am looking forward to it.

Do you believe people can move things with their minds? Telekinesis (TK), it’s called or PK, psychokinesis (from the Greek "psyche", meaning mind, soul, heart, or breath; and "kinesis", meaning motion; literally "movement from the mind") There are some slight distinctions in the terms but for this blog we’ll use them interchangeably. It concerns moving objects with your mind. No significant scientific evidence exists to support it, and mostly it falls into the realm of magicians’ parlor tricks. The term "telekinesis" was coined in 1890 by Russian psychical researcher Alexander N. Aksakof. The term "Psychokinesis" was coined in 1914 by American author-publisher Henry Holt in his book On the Cosmic Relations. Studies have been done to see if one could influence dice or other objects with the mind, but so far nothing conclusive.

I tend to be relatively open to some areas of ESP and mind ability things. After all, we use such a small percentage of the mind and even physics presents us with some theories that sub atomic particles that may influence or “jump” to other particles, so why not thought, which is basically electrical? Sure electricity usually needs a wire system, generators and all that, but those are man-made devices to capture and conduct. Perhaps certain minds are attuned to pick up signals from other like minds? However, moving objects is a little different.

There would have to be some sort of force exerted by the mind, and if that’s electrical then could there be a shock involved in the movement? Like mini mind lightning pushing a box across the table? Seems a very dicey aspect of mind powers, to me. I live in a beach town; if there were a way to do that sort of thing I would have figured it out by now and a lot of girls in bikinis would be losing their tops…imagine, mind groping…Sigh, I would really like to believe in this ability. And were people able to do this what happens in Vegas would not be staying in Vegas. Slot machines would be constantly barfing coinage.

As I talked about in the Ouija board blog, the mind does emit tiny electrical impulses that can move a ball on the end of a string or a platen. Yet these require one to be in contact with the object. PK means having no physical contact, but exerting some sort of force from your brain. Maybe if you are a member of the X-Men this works, but in real life? I doubt it. I would like to see more study on it, but for now it falls into the area of stage performers and pseudo science.

What do you think? Believe folks can move objects with their mind? Was Tara Reid popping out of her top really her fault or the work of a telekiperv? (No, I was nowhere in the area at the time! Really.)


The Chloe Files: Kicking Evil’s ass one demon at a time.
In trade paperback.

Slipping through My Fingers

There’s an ABBA song from their last studio album I like quite a bit. It’s a haunting song called “Slipping through my Fingers” and is about a mother watching her little girl go off to school. As I daycare my niece and school starts again here in Maine in a few days, I am reminded of that song with a melancholy feeling of just how fast not only children, but the things we hold most precious in life can slip away. My niece is only ten, going into 5th grade, but over the extremely short summer here—it rained nearly an entire two months, June and July, so we feel incredibly jilted out of a warm season—she has shot up inches and you can see the little girl disappearing in favor of the young lady. Things have to change, no matter we might not want them to (and of course once they hit their teens you just gotta put them on ebay anyway because they turn into nasty know-it-alls who figure out your not really cool and start browsing nursing home brochures).

It’s at these times of transition, I sometimes feel overwhelmed with an indefinable sorrow. Yes, we would miss out on so much if things always stayed the same, and the things we recall from days past always look better in the rose-colored glow of memory. But wouldn’t it be nice for once to keep things just the same, until we grow tired of them, and not them of us? Maybe it’s the feeling that we are being forced into change, instead of choosing to change. Why does this change often feel more like something is being taken away from us than given? Growth can be overrated, because with growth comes the loss of something precious, something forever onward only to be experienced in memories and scrapbooks. It feels…unfair.

It’s not just watching your children go off on their. It’s other things, sometimes things we don’t even realize we have until they are gone. The romantic feelings of courtship, maybe, or the thrill of a first sale as a writer, the first win as an athlete. The once-in-a-lifetime things. Perhaps even something as inevitable as the passing of balmy summer nights into the chilled evenings of fall.

As adults we spend too much of our time chasing those lost feelings, yet rarely, if ever, appreciating them while they are truly there.

“The feeling that I’m losing her forever/and without really entering her world,” the song goes. Well, you can’t catch the wind. You are only allowed to feel the warm breeze on your face. Then it’s gone. But the essence of feeling never is, though it’s always tinged with sadness.

Enjoy it while you have it. Live in the moment. Don’t let it slip through your fingers. Because worse than the melancholy of change is the regret of never having experienced.

The Chloe Files: Kicking Evil’s ass one demon at a time.
In trade paperback.

Western Wednesday: Guest Blogger Andrea Hughes

This week for Western Wednesday I turn Dark Bits over to guest blogger Welsh-born author Andrea Hughes, who discusses her Wild West interests and her involvement in Express Westerns', Where Legends Ride #s 1 & 2 (writing as Kit Churchill). Andrea’s writing shows a rare passion not only for the western but for the very real characters she breathes life into within her stories. Andrea also spends her days as a full time caregiver to her lovely mother and devouring Black Horse Westerns, one of which we someday hope to badger her, er, I mean, talk her into writing! Without further ado, Andrea Hughes…


The reason I am writing this blog is firstly, Howard is a friend and very persuasive, and also because I wanted to talk about the anthologies that are produced by the Black Horse Western discussion group, and in particular my stories.

I remember reading a writer who said that he started off “dating” writing, and it was a few years before he finally settled down and “married” it, (that is, took it seriously.) This writer is now fairly prolific and successful, so I guess the relationship worked. Along those lines, you could say I have flirted with writing for many years. I mainly just wrote in notebooks, always stories set in the Old West, and never anything serious. I was just “acting out my daydreams.” (I always wanted to be an outlaw in the Old West, for some weird reason.) I had also always wanted to live in the Old West, ever since I can remember. I remember watching “How the West Was Won” TV series on a Sunday night, and the opening titles brought tears to my eyes. The same thing happens now actually, when I watch the “Lonesome Dove” opening credits. (I think my friends think I've got a screw loose.)

I had been a member of the Black Horse group for a few months when the authors decided to publish their own anthology of short stories. (Robert) Hale, who publish Black Horse Westerns, do not take short stories, and the authors felt there was a gap in the market. Remember, these are authors of books that I have read for many years, and all extremely good at their craft. I was amazed when they opened up submissions for anyone who was a member of the group, published writer or not. Having had this “flirty” relationship with writing, and never taken it seriously, I challenged myself to submit a story. The story concerned a young woman who had been in trouble, and who got in more and more trouble as the story went on. (This was probably “acting out my daydreams” too.) I was amazed that Ian, Matt and Nik, the editorial team, liked it and accepted it.

When the time for the next anthology came around, I still had not gone beyond the “flirting” stage with writing. I have had so much encouragement from the group, and thought that they would have given up on me by now. Still, Ian/Nik and Charlie(the editorial team for this book) were willing to accept my submission. This really pleased me as this story I really cared about. The lives of women in the Old West have always fascinated me. It was tough for everyone. Even wives who had husbands and families sometimes had to be taken back East when the cold, lonely winters on the prairies took their sanity away. But the lives of some prostitutes were particularly bad. I could never understand how these women survived. Many had no choice in their “career”. Finding themselves out West, it was either starve or become a hooker. So, I wrote this story around the life of one such prostitute. (I hasten to say, no, this was not “acting out my daydream”.) I loved writing it. When you really get into your character, and care about them, it is like getting lost in a different world. It became so, whatever I was doing during the day, my mind always went back to the story, the lead character. An added benefit was, with all the stress in my life at the moment, this story really helped. I had been told that writing could be therapy before, but never experienced it so vividly before.

Anyway, there it is. How I came to write two stories for the “Express Westerns” anthologies. Just being on the Black Horse Western discussion group has helped me so much. Before, I always felt a bit “strange”, loving westerns and the Old West. I didn't know one other person who loved westerns like I did. Finding this group was amazing, and even more amazing is how all the authors are so humble, self-effacing and helpful. I recommend the anthologies and the group to anyone.

WHERE LEGENDS RIDE can be purchased from Amazon, AmazonUK and other fine online book sellers.

Terror Tuesdays: Fly Me to the Moon

Time for another Terror Tuesday. Do you know where your sacrificial virgin is? I thought not. She’s at the bookstore, asking for more horror books—where you should be! Better hurry, you know how fast virgins tend to go nowadays…

Check out a very nice review of the second Chloe Files supernatural mystery over at Nights and Weekends. Margaret Marr did the review and she writes some wonderful books herself. http://www.nightsandweekends.com/articles/09/NW0900419.php And look for a chance to win both Chloe novels, plus a Chloe Files T-shirt coming soon with the Find Chloe a New Job Contest. Details upcoming.

Don’t know if any of you saw the episode of ABC News’ The Outsiders the other night. It involved alien abduction scenarios and was pretty basic. Having had an uncle who did hypnosis therapy on abductees, I had had seen all the stuff before and had come to many of the same conclusions, as I have written in previous blogs on the subject. The psychologist interviewers who obtain positive results always turn out to be believers and the questions are leading enough to harvest the expected answers and “evidence”. And since hypnosis makes one pretty susceptible to answering in the positive about things they already lean towards believing, it’s hard to take any of that type research seriously. Perhaps I am biased having seen enough of how it operates firsthand.

The primary explanation in these cases was sleep paralysis. Now, I can see the person who has experienced these sleep paralysis sessions believing what they have experienced is real. And alien archetypes are everywhere in today’s society (back in the day, or days, depending what period in time you choose, people experienced the same thing, except they saw angels, demons, ghosts, various little people and the like.) But in the case of one guy they were interviewing, his wife also believed him. It’s tempting to say, well, she’s his wife, so she is going to say she does regardless of her own beliefs, or perhaps that some of her own light bulbs are out, but I have to wonder. My friends never believe me when I tell them lawn gnomes are sneaking into my shed and carrying off my gardening equipment. They tell me outright when they don’t believe me. Which is why their bodies will never be found…

But this guy’s wife really did seem to take him serious. She cited cases of keys or remotes “vanishing” in the house, and searching for them to no avail. Only to have those objects return to their original place of departure days later. Mysteriously.

Um, right. There’s where I get suspicious. I saw the very same thing with a certain relative who claimed he had ghosts. While drunk he’d make impressions in chair cushions and turn TVs on and dash from the room, then claim a spirit wanted to watch Oprah. Sometimes this relative wasn’t even plowed. Maybe he just wanted attention.

This woman didn’t seem unintelligent. Was she lying to protect her husband, who supposedly passed a sanity test? Gullible? Or in on the hoax? I seriously don’t know. I would like to have been a fly on the wall after the camera crew left.

Since the husband supposedly wrote down scientific equations while under hypnosis that only a physicist should have known, I came away with the impression he was making things up. The equations, when examined by a real live, honest to goodness physicist, turned out to be half-memorized type deals with lots of fudging, as if somebody without mathematical background had tried to commit them to memory and done so poorly. Tough not having a photographic memory when you are trying to pull something, I guess. I came away doubting every word he was saying.

His wife…I just don’t know. I saw the same thing with my aunt. She would believe anything my uncle told her. She wasn’t stupid, in fact, was quite intelligent in many areas. But she was gullible as far as he was concerned and constantly seeking his respect, attention and passion, none of which he ever gave her.

I wonder if this woman is competing with her husband’s pathological desire for attention? If so, she’s in for a lifetime of disappointment, or at least as long as the marriage holds up.

It’s sad some folks have such a need for acceptance (and ironically this is just the thing that will get you ostracized by much of the general population but idolized by a handful of the “faithful”), that they neglect the very person that could give them that validation (though, of course, that should come from within one’s self, not be sought out from others.)

The majority of folks who claim to have had abduction experiences truly believe they have had them, and are not crazy. The mind can cause things to look very real sometimes. and a sleep paralyses experience is a pretty scary thing. The mind needs to come up with a convenient explanation fast to release some of that fear (while strangely enough presenting you with a whole new fright—nothing’s ever free. I guess).

If indeed aliens had reached earth and wanted to examine and experiment on us…well, I am betting we’d never know it. They would be so advanced they wouldn’t need to snatch us out of our beds and leave us with frightening memories of the experience. They’d make themselves look like Jennifer Love Hewitt and...

Nevermind. I have to go tend to my crop circles now…

The Chloe Files…Where Evil goes to get its ass kicked…

In trade paperback.

Heroes and Zeroes

So the NFL and Philadelphia Eagles have so kindly given Michael Vick a second chance. That’s wonderful. We should all be forgiven for torturing and killing animals by being able to step right back into our profession of choice and resume making millions of dollars. Right? Who cares how heinous your crime was, anyway. It was just dogs. Not like he was hurting a person or anything.

What a load of crap. Hardened soul that I am, I don’t for one minute believe this guy’s apologies and promises of conversion. In my book people who get off on watching innocent creatures maimed, tortured, and drowned don’t deserve multi-million dollar, fame-gilded second chances. As far as I am concerned these people have something wrong in their basic make-up. And anyone who can do that to animals can do it to human beings. There’s no sport in watching animals tear each other apart, or in killing the weak ones because they won’t perform to some sick standard or make you enough blood money. He is a sick bastard and should only be given a job cleaning horse crap out of stalls. Supervised, of course, to make sure he doesn’t find a way to take out his psychotic sense of entertainment on another innocent creature.

But that aside, what the hell is wrong with an organization that will give this guy back everything after he serves his petty sentence? I am not a football fan, but these guys are heroes to thousands of kids across the country. What kind of an example is a guy like Michael Vick to our youth?

A damn poor example. Although talentless airheads like Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian are bad enough role models for young girls, at least they are basically harmless, if shallow. Vick is not harmless. I certainly would not want my child emulating this guy.

Well, poor black boys need heroes and proof that there are second chances in America and the world, someone told me recently. Oh, really? Do they need this type of person as that proof? Maybe they should go out and torture some of the neighborhood pets because, after all, it will lead to fame and fortune. I have no argument that these kids need heroes. But Michael Vick is no hero. He’s a piece of scum who is getting away with a slap on the wrist, instead of learning true personal growth and remorse. His apologies are, to this point, worthless and empty. He is a zero.

So what about heroes for those poor inner city children? What about second chances and meaningful life-altering changes that inspire and lead?

Well, let me tell you about a man who is one of my heroes, somebody I respect and admire for all he has done to pull himself out of a life of crime and certain waste, and to help others. He is also a black man and an athlete.

He grew up poor and mean as a rabid dog. He stole and he beat up people. He disappointed his mother, and his father, if I recall correctly, had taken off. He was headed for jail or the electric chair. He was a holy terror in the small Texas town in which he was raised. And strong enough and vicious enough to back up whatever threat he made.

Until one day he decided he wanted more than a life filled with emptiness and corruption, and joined President Johnson’s newly formed Job Corps. He was still mean, still given to fits of temper, but he started channeling that into the sport of boxing. It was the first step on a journey of transformation.

It did not come easy because with fame and money came trouble controlling his spending excesses and forays with women. Change wasn’t instant. But there were glimpses of the great person and inspiration he would become. He became Olympic boxing champion, literally pounding his way to the top. In the midst of ‘60s’ civil unrest he alone had the balls to walk about the ring after his gold medal victory holding a small flag of the nation that had given him the opportunity to pull himself out of the gutter. It wasn’t a popular thing, then, to thank your country, to show respect. But he was his own man and displayed his courage of conviction and pride of accomplishment with humility and grace. He didn’t do what was expected or popular; he did what he felt was right.

In the following years, still carrying that reputation for meanness and susceptibility for temptation, he captured the title of heavyweight champion. Until one day, in only his second loss in the ring, he collapsed from dehydration and heat exhaustion, mumbling unintelligible words and claiming visions from God. Whether those visions were true or the product of a heat-exhausted mind, I can’t answer. But what I can say is something profound happened to that man that night, something that directed and defined the journey of transformation he had begun years before.

When he got out of the hospital, he quit boxing and became a minister. He gave up his material possessions and preached to a small congregation. He shaved his head, and thumped a Bible instead of other men’s jaws.

A few years later he opened a center for underprivileged youth, which, lacking funds, drove him back into his former profession. He needed the money to keep the center open, to help those poor children, black and white, have the opportunity he had gotten through the Job Corps.

Within a few short years, he reclaimed the heavyweight championship, the oldest man ever to do so. But he was different, now. Gone was the scowl and intimidating nastiness. He was now gregarious, somewhat like a teddy bear with a large bat. He didn’t throw punches in anger, he threw them for a cause.

He financed that center. And along the way developed product lines that made him a millionaire times over, starred in two TV shows, and published books. Here was a guy who came from absolutely nothing and now sat at the pinnacle of his potential—providing a sterling example for youth wallowing in the life from which he had escaped. Here was a man with a second chance and a true conversion of person who led by example and deserved the opportunities that had come his way. He deserved them because he had worked for change and believed in what he could be.

This is the sort of athlete I would like our disadvantaged youth to look up to. A man who picked himself up off the ground and stood tall and proud, a man who defied the critics and naysayers and achieved and prospered but most of all became a guiding force for so many kids through his center and through his example. A man who believed in himself and the potential of human beings to better and change themselves. A man who saw good when everything about him looked bad.

He is one of the people I most respect and admire. He is not perfect; no man is. But he is a hero as far as I am concerned and someone whose bio should be read in schools and youth centers, and by those who want to read a truly inspirational story about how one person can stop the pattern of negativity in his/her life.

The man I am talking about is, of course, heavyweight boxing champion George Foreman. Like I said, he’s not perfect, but his story and his person are light years ahead of somebody like the cruel, irresponsible and selfish Michael Vick.

Western Wednesdays: Don't Tarnish the Brand

Time to saddle up the hoss and head out onto the trail for another Western Wednesday. I’d like to thank everyone who ordered copies of my large print paperback Blood Creek by Lance Howard. Book Depository http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/ quickly went out of stock on it thanks to your efforts.

My present Black Horse Western in progress is nearing completion of its 3rd draft, so it should be finished soon. I have finally settled on a title and whittled the thing mostly to where I want it to be. This one was the experiment, seat-of-the-pants writing book and in the process of revising I have found both plusses and minuses, but overall I like the flow and rising tension.

I’d encourage, like Gary Dobbs does on his Western Mondays blogs at The Tainted Archive, everyone to go into their local book stores and request more westerns, and a wider variety of authors. As much as I respect Louis L’Amour and Zane Grey, I would like to see more than just those two authors on the shelves. I would also like to encourage readers to buy from the independent publishers and authors online producing some excellent western tales.

I’ve seen a lot of bitterness and grousing going on lately by a western author on a book list I am also a member of, and on blogs I read. Most of the rhetoric centers on the supposed constraints of the particular type of westerns this person writes. The complaints, without the hyperbole, might have carried some legitimacy had they not been delivered as a constant barrage of digs and what ultimately results in bridge burning. They also became insulting to other authors still working for the line, relegating these other authors to “mediocre” and “beginners.” The posts target what this author perceives as a narrowing of parameters of the westerns published by the line.

Perhaps those parameters have narrowed a bit, but so what? What good is stomping one’s feet and whining to the world about it going to do? Surely there are far more productive and effective ways of communicating one’s concerns, especially as a writer, and one who used to be an editor, who, I assume, had to deal with others who might not have liked their words altered for whatever reason. Belittling other authors who work for the line, putting down the line in public forums…is that really the smartest way to go? Or is it just the egocentric way to handle it? Does one expect resolution or merely sympathy?

That aside, the fact remains that some of the writers who write for the line are damn fine wordsmiths and are still and always will be producing great stories. Maybe those stories won’t always push some mythical boundaries, or break new trail, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be well written, entertaining and accomplish what they set out to do. And many will go far beyond that because limitations in one area only serve to spark creativity in another—if the writer if of a mind to do that.

It reminds me of the old argument about swearing excessively in fiction. A few writers assert they can’t create realistic characters if they can’t drop the F bomb every other word. It’s true to life, they say. It’s my artistic integrity, they insist. Maybe. Maybe it’s also just lazy dialog writing. Or lazy writing period. And maybe some writers who can’t color in the lines can only bitch about the wideness of the crayons. Sometimes those insecure with their skill and talent feel the need to denigrate others who can adapt and grow.

I wasn’t really planning of revisiting this subject after my Grumpy Old Authors blog a bit back, but seeing the line’s other talented writers—including or excluding myself, as the case may be—passive aggressively maligned made me decide to re-examine the subject. The western in general and the Black Horse Western line in particular is bursting with fine writers who tell wonderful stories and deserve to be read and enjoyed. They don’t deserve to be belittled. They write stories not for the money and their artistic ego, but out of passion for both subject and genre.

I wish this writer much success in his future ventures, and while he certainly has the right to stick his foot in his mouth as often as he likes, I think he might take a sober look at himself and what is most important in his art. I’d recommend trying to be more positive and flexible, learning contrition and focusing on creative growth. Granted, it is easy in this business to become discouraged and disheartened. Far too easy. Maybe for many it won’t be worth it. I have times when I feel that way. Sometimes it’s hard to even sit looking at that blank computer screen or piece of paper.

But it goes with the territory. If that discouragement and bitterness gets to be too much, perhaps stepping back, or trying other venues is a good idea. Just don’t back shoot your way out.

And to end on a more positive note, I’ll recommend some fine authors (along with my Lance Howard self, of course!) you’ll want to seek out for your western reading. Amazon US is carrying many of them now but Book Depository ships world wide free and carries all of them. Look for the works of IJ Parnham, Jack Martin, Terry James, Jack Giles, Ross Morton, Chuck Tyrell, Gillian Taylor, Matthew Mayo, Derek Rutherford and Lee Pierce, to name a few. You can’t wrong with any of them.

Terror Tuesday: Be Afraid...or Not...

It’s another Terror Tuesday on Dark Bits. Time to get out there and turn your local bookstore managers into zombies…oh, wait…nevermind. Just ask them to carry more horror books and more authors, since the first part is probably a given.

New out this week, The Chloe Files wallpaper: Evil Bites. The third Chloe Files novel will pit Chloe against the undead in New Salem. She’ll have a lot at “stake” in this tale, lemme tell you. So I hope you’ll enjoy the artistic preview.

Screened on DVD this week: Bedtime Stories. What, you ask? Not a horror movie? Suffering, I mean, sitting through it was a horror for me. But the Guinea pig was cute. Sorta. In a creepy kind of way. Also, The Messengers. I didn’t expect much out of it but it was actually a pretty decent ghost story. Couple with a troubled daughter buys an old sunflower farm in No. Dakota and finds the place, not too surprisingly, haunted. The previous family disappeared. Daughter is played by Kristen Stewart before Twilight sucked away most of her acting ability. Worth renting. Also watching the Hammer Dracula series. Christopher Lee IS Drac as far as I am concerned and Horror of Dracula, Dracula has Risen from the Grave, Dracula: Prince of Darkness and Taste the Blood of Dracula are top notch.

For some horror fun, check out Al Bruno III’s serial novel “In The Shadow of His Nemesis” on his blog (http://albruno3.blogspot.com/), which has reached the six month point.

This week’s topic: Why are so many people afraid of things supernatural? Let’s for the sake of this blog assume things that go bump in the night are real, like the power of the Quija board or the curses of witch doctors. Or that watching movies with Satan in them will send you straight to H-E Double Toothpicks. Why, in our modern age, are so many people so afraid of things they can’t see? Things that are left over superstition and primitive explanations for ordinary events—such as an ellipse signaling the end of the World, or even that an add-on Bible book of allegory called Revelations actually foretells the coming of the Apocalypse? (Which of course goes totally against that date setting caveat laid down by Christ. I’ll get more into that in a future blog.) But I am not really venturing far into matters of faith and religion this time. (And as far as I am concerned those who profess to be strong in their faith should not be bothered at all by witches on broomsticks and pieces of plastic on a game board because they have protection, right? I have a Fundamentalist friend who is afraid of anything remotely dealing with horror or the supernatural, which only tells me she is not very confident in her faith and should take a real strong look at herself before preaching to others.)

What I would be more concerned with are these things taken to extreme, whether serious or silly. Those who believe they need to use barbaric tactics to cleanse a child of “demons” or that having a witch sculpture in your window during the Christmas season will send your soul to Hell. And that power doesn’t come from the supernatural—it comes from the mind, warped as it may be in some.

It’s probably human nature to be afraid of the dark, to be frightened of things we don’t understand. If I saw a ghost—unless it looks like Jessica Alba—I might be inclined to run first and ask for its boomail address later. That’s a lot of the fun of horror writing and reading. That controlled scare. But, really, why fear it in real life? Beyond the initial startle response, I mean. If you have a faith, then you don’t have to worry. You’re good. If you’re an atheist you’re not going to believe in the paranormal anyway. And if you are anywhere in between, take a sober minute to think about what you are really being frightened by.

Whether one believes these things are real or figments of archetype, there’s no reason to fear or be intimidated by them. There is reason to explore and understand, discount or legitimatize.

You want something to really be afraid of? How bout the zealots I mentioned cleansing their kids or those strapping bombs to themselves and wiping out a café of innocent people? How about the abuser who beats his wife and children, ruins lives? How about the brainless celebrities who torture animals for fun and profit? How about the serial killer or rapist? That’s true horror. True Evil. Something to genuinely fear. The supernatural has nothing on everyday life terror.

Do you fear the inanimate object supposedly blessed with demonic power? Or rather the guy with the automatic weapon and a chip on his shoulder because his mom used non dairy creamer on his Fruit Loops? Seriously, it’s fun being afraid of things that can’t hurt us in movies and books because we can escape them. But we can’t escape the psycho stalker looking to take out his insecurity with the size of his ring ding and sociopathic cravings on defenses victims. I’ll take my chances with ghosts and magic wands, thank you very much.

Someone I know thinks Harry Potter is evil and won’t let her kids anywhere near it. I submit she might be more concerned about the folks daycaring her kids than worrying about a would-be wizard boy. I don’t think any real danger lies in the perceived evil of the supernatural, but certainly exists in the directed evil of some disturbed human beings. Far as I am concerned someone like Charles Manson is a whole lot scarier than some bogeyman with a pitchfork and horns.

What do you think?

The Chloe Files: Kicking Evil’s Ass One Demon at a Time…
Numbers 1 & 2 now available in paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other fine online stores.

Western Wednesday: Vampires on the Range...

Before heading onto this week’s topic trail, a few bits of Wild West news. The paperback large print edition of my Lance Howard western Blood Creek is now out. Perhaps one of my grisliest westerns ever, which ties into this week’s topic, it involves a Ute bent on revenge in a most gruesome manner. You can mosey on over to Amazon to pick it up, if yer of a mind. I believe they even have a few copies of the hardcover in stock.

True West Magazine this week carries an excellent article on Black Horse Westerns and even gives me a mention. A great mag, online and in print. Check out the article at: http://www.truewestmagazine.com/stories/draw_old_chap/1230/all/

Last week I talked about the upcoming western short story anthology, Where Legends Ride 2. Editor Nik Morton—an excellent Black Horse Western writer and editor—informs me this volume’s depth and breadth of tales is even deeper and wider than the first, and that, pards, means it’s really somethin’.

Black Horse/Avalon western write I J Parnham is continuing Wild Bunch Wednesdays on his blog with a round robin style short story you’ll want to check out. His blog is called The Culbin Trail and can be found at http://ijparnham.blogspot.com/ And while you’re at it check out Black Horse Express, which Ian also oversees at http://www.blackhorsewesterns.org/ for some great articles and interviews.

In last week’s Western Wednesday blog I mentioned how much potential and range, pun intended, the western can have. It is one of the few genres that crosses with others—horror, mystery, romance and even sci fi, for you fans of Wild Wild West and Brisco County, Jr.—seamlessly. In my Lance Howard Black Horse Westerns I have stretched the boundaries of the western quite a bit, and thanks to Robert Hale’s acceptance of fresh angles and openness of my sometimes boundary-pushing tales, I have touched upon Indian ghosts and western witches, and even included Jack the Ripper (Ripper Pass). Sometimes I’m inclined to describe my tales as Gunsmoke meets Scooby Doo.

I have found horror works particularly well in westerns, and falls right in line with the long-standing practice of telling spooky stories around the campfire on a lonesome Colorado trail on star-lit nights. Western ghost stories have a long and respected tradition. And frankly they are just plain fun to tell. In my two westerns written under my own name, The Dark Riders and Pistolero, I take the western fully onto the horror range. Pistolero involves a ripper stalking bargals in a small town saddled with secrets, and while it spends time in horror territory, it also crosses into adventure, mystery and tragic romance as well--and includes what I hope is a whodunit twist no one sees coming that puts it into another category altogether. Which category? You’ll have to read it to find out.

But it is with The Dark Riders I “sink my teeth” all the way into the western supernatural with a subject rather in vogue these days—vampires! Not your watered-down Lost Boy vamps, either, son. These vampires fall into the archetypical evil vampire mold. They are ex-outlaws, one a nasty SOB in particular named Milus Clint, looking to create a world of eternal night, over which, of course, they rule. Their motives are not lofty or noble in the least and they are not tortured souls fighting to regain their humanity. They are pure monster fashioned from men who were just plain rotten to begin with. A certain historical figure, albeit undead, makes an appearance. I wonder how many will recognize him? No, it’s not Elvis, either.

The Dark Riders was one of my favorite western horror books to write, though it may be the one I actually had the most trouble with. I had been writing straight, more or less, westerns for a couple years after leaving horror behind for a bit, and found when I went back to it, I had to struggle through a crisis of faith in the book. What was enough western? What was enough horror? How did unreal villains live in the starkly real world of the Old West? What made them an intrinsic part of their time and place? What limitations and powers did these creatures have? How could I make them different from the old vampires as well as the new ones, yet keep them in the same, er, vein? At one point, three quarters of the way through, I stopped dead, pardon the expression. The first—and I hope last—time I ever had to take a couple days off between writing chapters. It was a tough book to pull off, to make the unbelievable believable. And I have to admit a lot of mainstream publishers/agents told me to remove one or the other element—either get rid of the vampires or get rid of the western angle. In the end, however, I went with what I felt was a terrifying story, one that worked in both its genres, and apart from them. My ultimate faith in blending these genres appears to have been justified with readers. I have gotten nice reviews from fans who never read or liked a western, and from western readers who had not read horror.

I think in the end it proves the western’s versatility and scope. I think a lot of non-western readers might be pleasantly surprised to discover just how fresh and gripping this genre can be. Of course, I hope they’ll start with Pistolero of The Dark Riders, but, horror aside, there are some very fine Black Horse Western writers telling powerful tales as well—Jack Martin, Terry James, IJ Parnham, Nik Morton, Charles Tyrell, Ray Foster, to name a few and with apologies to those I have left out—and while they may not venture into vampirism, they do expand the boundaries and imbue their characters with great depths of emotion and engage in powerful writing and issues relevant to today’s readers that lifts the western far above the run-of-the-mill horse opera. I hope you’ll give them a try.

Terror Tuesday: Remote Viewing

It’s Terror Tuesday time again, good little goblins and ghouls. Hope you’re all doing your part to scare…um, I mean, persuade your local booksellers into expanding their horror section and selection. And perusing the wide range of talent online from independent horror authors and publishers. And of course buying lots of copies of The Chloe Files because the payments on my palatial summer homes are getting a bit late…

Screened on DVD this week: Lost Souls with Winona Ryder. In the tradition of Rosemary’s Baby, claims the box. Well, only in the fact that both involve Mr. Horns and Pitch Fork and Devilish overtones. Otherwise this movie is just slow and a little obvious. Better off with the aforementioned flick, which is genuinely moody and frightening. But at least Winona wasn’t shoplifting anything in this one.

This week’s venture into the strange and unknown: remote viewing. Remote viewing refers to gathering information about unseen objects or targets from a distance. The person doing the remote viewing attempts to pass along details but extrasensory means. For instance, if I am sitting in one room and telling you what is going on at a party across town in detail, like the plunging neckline Ms. Hilton is wearing and the biotches she is gossiping about, or how Mr. Gropely cops a feel of the waitress’s bum as she pirouettes by with a tray of bacon-wrapped scallops.

The term was coined in 1974 by parapsychologists Russell Targ and Harold Puthoff. It was even the focus of a government study to the tune of 20 million buckeroos and terminated for lack of results under controlled conditions in 1995. I guess if they had really thought remote viewing were feasible they should have been able to predict the waste of 20 mil, but of course the government is notorious for not seeing the squandering of great sums of cash, even when they don’t need a psychic to tell them so, just common sense (something they can’t really be accused of “possessing.”)

I have a great deal of doubt with the legitimacy of remote viewing in the fact that it has not been duplicated and confirmed in any valid controlled studies. Plenty of folks purporting to be capable of such ESP feats refuse to submit to stringent conditions or to be studied at all, while those who do and fail manufacture excuses as to why the experiments were unsuccessful.

I have tried remote viewing, at my uncle’s psychic church back in the ‘70s. I sat in a room with a handful of others, all of whom had remote viewing experiences—they claimed—and described in detail. The problem was the detail was easily gatherable from any book or movie they might have read (not what the denomination of the bill lying under the War and Peace book in the parlor was, which could have been verified). Were they lying? Maybe one of two of them, given what I knew about them, but the others were probably daydream-prone and really believed they were actually mind traveling. A friend I had taken with me to the session even had some sort of experience, but he was given to making things up, so I discounted his adventure accordingly.

On the other hand, I am a writer, not only of non-fiction but primarily fiction. I am predisposed to imagining and creating from whole cloth, in detail. Yet I experienced nothing. And at that stage, as a late teen, I was very open to it. I wanted to experience what everybody else was supposedly experiencing. However, I did not. Nothing. Went nowhere, saw nothing. Of anyone in that room, I should have. I create stories. I make things up. I am paid to lie on paper or pixel. But…nada. Much to my psychic minister uncle’s annoyance, I might add.

Let’s face it, if remote viewing were possible at this point in human evolution, people would be pilfering the winning lottery numbers every week and I would long ago have been in Jennifer Love Hewitt’s bathroom while she showers. Now there’s some details I would like to observe, lemme tell you. So far, no luck, though she remains in constant danger of my figuring out how to psychic peep.

I know someone who claims to remote view. Unfortunately this person is also a fiction writer and unusually intelligent—to the point of being a little twisted by it—with a somewhat photographic memory. He believes he does these things; I do not.

Many areas of ESP I remain open to, and possibly even accept, though I want to see a lot more study. Remote viewing, however, is not really one of them. I would need someone to show me in detail that they can do it, and in controlled surroundings. And none of this "sometimes it works and sometimes is doesn’t" stuff, either. You either can or cannot do it, regardless of your big toe being pointed 20 degrees north on the seventh day of the dawning of Aquarius or what have you.

Of course, this also begs another avenue of study, why some folks are fantasy prone and actually believe they do this. As a fiction writer, seems I should be inclined that way, but for the moment I can still tell the difference between my reality and my fiction…well, except for Chloe…she’s real, dammit.

The Chloe Files—Kicking Evil’s ass one demon at a time…
In paperback from online stores everywhere.

Western Wednesday

Wild Bunch Wednesday has come to the end of its first run, and hopefully Joanne will be doing more in the near future. I hope you enjoyed reading not only my excerpts, but also those from the other superb Black Horse authors.

I will, however, taking a page from Black Horse writer Gary Dobbs' book, pun intended, continue to make Wednesday western day here on Dark Bits. I would like to introduce non-western readers to the genre, which can be so much more than the general stereotypical view, as well as present something for my regular Lance Howard readers.

The western is undergoing a revival--in books, film and television. The Lone Ranger with Johnny Depp as Tonto is on the movie horizon along with a number of other western films and Black Horse now has the capacity to reprint fast-selling titles—of which, due a lot to the efforts of Gary Dobbs' marketing and his fastest selling BHW ever, The Tarnished Star under the name Jack Martin, lately there has been a marked increase. Among them was my own recent title Coyote Deadly, which sold out three weeks before its publication date, as well as being purchased for trade paperback at the same time.

Westerns are doing well in comic books too. Last week, Dynamite Comics produced the 17th issue of their excellent Long Ranger title, a must read for all western and Ranger fans. They have spear-headed the Masked Rider of The Plains’ revival. They also publish Zorro, another excellent title in their line. Also last week, Marvel published Kid Colt by veteran Spider-Girl writer Tom DeFalco, an excellent western book, and hopefully the first of many. DC Comics still produces Jonah Hex, soon to be a major motion picture starring Josh Brolin in the lead role.

There are many other examples of the western’s resurgence. One effort is led by the Black Horse Westerns group’s independent western line Black Horse Express and its anthology, Where Legends Ride. The book garnered some wonderful reviews and a second anthology is deep into production, scheduled for this fall. I am proud to have a story accepted for it and especially proud of the story itself.

The story is called “Billy” and concerns the plight of a young man with Downs Syndrome in the Wild West. Billy was probably one of the toughest characters I have written but the western I felt was a perfect place to examine the way society can ostracize those with differences. Billy gets picked on, constantly, yet remains an innocent soul who views the rough and dusty world of the West with cheerful acceptance—at least until the day a pair of no-good brothers try to shatter that vision. Billy’s reactions and the results of them is something I won’t reveal—you’ll have to read the volume when it comes out this fall, but it will be well worth the wait, not for my story, but because many of the other fine writers whom appeared in the acclaimed first volume will be returning for the second, along with some break-out new talent. The first volume can still be ordered from any online bookstore, incidentally.

I chose dealing with a Downs person because the grit and grime of the Old West made a perfect backdrop to play against the innocence and naivety of the character. It was also a time where less was understood about the condition and more fear existed of folks who were different. Unfortunately, too much of that fear still exists today. And it’s time it didn’t. Getting Billy’s character down was difficult, but writers love a challenge. It’s probably a form of masochism, but in an important way it helps us grow, as well as—we hope—makes the reader think and come away feeling something, or awakening something inside.

I have to admit, I started to feel Billy was real, and I found myself tensing during a scene where he is bullied, rooting for him later on, worrying about him, too. Writers get attached to their paper people.

Future Westerns Wednesday incidentally, will be opened up to guest bloggers too. First up will be author Andrea Hughes recounting her involvement with Where Legends Ride.

So western fans, what would you like the genre to do or what do you expect from it? And you non-western fans, what do you think it involves and what might make you a fan?

Lance Howard westerns can be purchased at Amazon, AmazonUK and The Book Depository (free world wide postage) http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/ Blood Creek comes out in paperback August 1st. It’s available for half price right now and free post. The Dark Riders by Howard Hopkins, a vampire western, can be ordered from any online store.

Terror Tuesday: Ouija Boards

I hope everybody is trotting out to their local bookstores and requesting a wider horror section. Also hope fans or the genre are supporting independent writers and publishers online. If you can’t get out to a local store, send them an email and politely ask them to increase their horror offerings. And of course, don’t forget to order The Chloe Files by yours truly!

Screened on DVD this weekend: The Unborn. This flick starts off nice, with all the required spooky trimmings—creepy ghost kid, sinister voices, eerie mood and a pretty girl in peril. Unfortunately about halfway through the film starts dragging and offers pretty typical horror stuff. No real surprises and you can see the ending coming (in fact, I did something like it in a short story 20 years ago, and it probably wasn’t new then.) You know who’s toast, and indeed they are. It’s not a bad movie, but a lot of potential is wasted.

So on to today’s topic in the silly supernatural department: Ouija Boards. I have a friend who believes they are evil. Pure evil. To touch ones means certain demon possession and the loss of all sexual function. Also known as a spirit board, it is a flat board with numbers, letters and spooky markings used supposedly to communicate with those beyond. It includes a planchette, a heart-shaped piece of wood or plastic with a hole in the middle through which a pen or, if you’re really kinky, something else can be inserted. Participants place their fingertips on the edge and ask questions of the spirit world. The planchette glides to various letters, spelling out the answer.

And curses you forever. At least, according to my friend.

Well, newsflash: it’s nothing but a game, friend. Parker Bros—you know, those guys who put out Monopoly and all that goodtime stuff--makes them. They are toys, despite ancient Chinese origins and centuries of spiritualist use. If spirits needed a piece of wood or plastic to get their point across, then the afterlife is a hell of a lot more lame than I thought it was. And if the Devil needs it, well, then, I can see why His thorny old ass got kicked out of Heaven so easily. Seriously, we live in the 21st century. Well, most of us. There are plenty of real things to investigate, plenty of certifiably unusual supernatural events and manifestations that I don’t need being warned that I’m going to Hell for playing strip Ouija.

Why does the planchette move, some ask? Is it possessed by spirits? Well, a little science offers some pretty good explanations. Users subconsciously direct the path of the heart to produce a word buried in that person's subconscious thought process. That’s the easiest one. This subconscious behavior is known as ideomotor action. William Carpenter coined the term in 1882. It’s also known as automatism. Small electrical impulses from the unconscious brain flow through your fingertips. You can do it with a small ball hanging on a chain. Think it left, it goes left; think it right, it swings right. I have done it in a class on hypnotism. It’s pretty basic. But the subconscious thought process may produce an answer different from what the user expects, something the user may be unaware off, and often more accurate—thus perpetuating the myth that the board possesses mystical properties. It does not. It is an inanimate object. The user, however, is animate—er, usually, though some people I’ve played it with…I’m not so sure.

Or of course you could believe that silly old Witchbaord movie…like my friend apparently does. Personally, I’d rather be terrified of lawn gnomes.

The Chloe Files: Kicking Evil’s ass one demon at a time…